


Home Alone

by Callmetiny



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Actually it's just, Adrien gets a nice holiday season, Chloé Bourgeois Redemption, Christmas Fluff, Family Don't End in Blood, Fluff, Gen, Kinda?, This boy deserves it, This whole thing is just, Without akumas, but Christmas-y
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-16 16:09:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16957206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callmetiny/pseuds/Callmetiny
Summary: Adrien wasn’t upset that he hadn’t made the plane. Nor was he upset that his father, Nathalie, and his bodyguard did make it.In fact, this is probably the best gift his father has ever given him.____________In which Plagg makes Adrien miss a plane, and the whole crew comes together as a family to support our lonely kitty cat.





	1. Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Um so this was for 25 days of ML day 1. It got a little out of hand though. I guess now it’s multiple chapters? Enjoy :)

Adrien wasn’t upset that he hadn’t made the plane. Nor was he upset that his father, Nathalie, and his bodyguard _did_ make it.

A little guilty, maybe.

But not upset.

“So you’re just… at home?” Nino’s voice was tinny through the phone’s speaker.

“Yeah, I guess,” Adrien said with a shrug. “I don’t think father’s going to send a plane back to fetch me. It wasn’t important that I went anyways.” The conference was really only meant for the business people—stockholders, marketers, all the admin and their secretaries—not the models. His father’s insistence on Adrien going was just to keep Adrien from being alone for holiday break, so they could come home on Christmas, do their thing, and everything would be kicked right back into motion the next day. It was a good idea, in theory.

But only in theory.

Adrien had gone along with it for sake’s sake and nothing else. Spending the holidays with his father _guaranteed_ to be around was enough of a gift as it stood, was already a far cry from the sweet nothings he’d been so close to getting last year. It was a chance, and Adrien was going to jump on it no matter what. It beat spending Christmas alone.

But then came Chloe’s Christmas party. Everyone was going because everyone was in town, and they were bringing their friends and their friends’ friends and their families along for the ride, except him of course. Nope, Adrien was not allowed to go. There was a conference in Milan, his father had said, and a party was not going to get in the way of that, let alone one so abhorrently _dangerous_ as that one. Adrien had a seat on that plane, and he was going to sit in it.

He’d nodded along to it, a bit sadly. It was still a holiday season spent with his father. He put that ahead in his mind, over top of the celebrations in Paris and the time with his friends and all the _fun_ that was promised at home. He went ahead and told Ladybug that he’d be gone, let his friends know he wouldn’t be at the party, and he accepted his father’s ‘request’ with a nod of his head.

Until he realized that he was _not_ going to be spending the holiday season with his father, not in the slightest. They would share little more than the plane ride there and the plane ride back—the rest of his time would be spent with the Gorilla, wandering around the hotel while his father went on to do other things with Nathalie by his side. No time spent together. Nothing he’d hoped for. The opposite, really.

Even then, Adrien still planned on going. His father wanted him to go, and so, like it or not, Adrien was going to go. That was just how things worked—no objections, no ‘but father’s, no nothing. He really hadn’t meant to miss the plane.

That was Plagg’s fault.

Plagg had dilly-dallied about at one of the airport restaurants for about twenty minutes. And Adrien couldn’t find him. He’d gotten so many weird looks around the restaurant, running around like a mad man and hissing out some strange name, that, when he found Plagg snuggled up in a pair of wool socks in the store across, he was frustrated to say the least. And then, since he’d had to lose Gorilla to look for Plagg in the first place, he’d gotten himself lost in the airplane terminal. His name had been called out over the intercom, but by that point he was in the local section of the airport, completely and utterly lost, not sure where in the world he’d taken the wrong turn or which terminal he was even supposed to be at.

Half an hour later, Adrien wandered out into the front of the airport, having given up, called his dad with his most panicked voice and a conjured excuse, then ended up taking a cab home. Airport security called off the manhunt his father sicced on him, and the plane was long gone—no Milan, no meeting, no missing the party.

“I mean, you didn’t want to go, right?” Nino was still there on his phone, going on.

“Not really,” Adrien said. It sounded more like a question.

“That’s awesome. Chloe’s party, here we come,” Nino said. There was a voice from somewhere in the background yelling out Nino’s name loud and clear. “Mom’s calling me. Good luck, dude.”

Adrien laughed. “Thanks Nino. See ya.”

“Bye.”

And with that, Nino’s face vanished from the other side of the phone. Adrien caught his reflection in the screen before the Skype screen popped up in its place, flashing on that Kim was idle and Alya was online, and he watched as Nino’s little icon went grey. Offline. He sent out a quick text on the class’ group chat about being home, then closed his phone and plopped it on the table.

Spinning around in his chair with a sigh, Adrien leaned back and took a look up at the ceiling. First day of Christmas break, and he was already bored. The party wasn’t until 8:00 on the 22nd, just about 24 hours from then. Meaning Adrien had 24 hours to burn. He was all alone in the house—his father had given the staff the whole next week off—so until his father came back, he was free to do whatever he wanted, only Plagg by his side.

Plagg, who had the remarkable ability to lower his impulse control to that of a toddler.

Plagg, who also had the impulse control of a toddler.

A whole house and a whole four days to themselves.

It was going to be a great weekend.

・‥…━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━…‥・

“So, I may have missed my flight.” Adrien sank down onto the platform beside Ladybug, letting his legs dangle off the side of the tower just like she did. There was a big smile smack dab in the middle of his face. He was in a fantastic mood.

After he’d made a call to Ladybug, he’d spent an hour or so wandering around the house for no good reason, just trying to figure out what was in those rooms he never visited. He’d found handful of guest bedrooms, still made up though they’d probably never be used; the Gorilla’s office, which he didn’t know existed; a sauna they had for some reason; and a whole bunch of other weird rooms. He bookmarked the sauna in the back of his mind for later, not knowing what else to do with it.

It’d been fun, just wandering around like that, with Plagg floating around his shoulder and chatting along freely. And now, he got to just sit there and bask in the company of Ladybug, no akuma and no nothing to disturb their peace (hopefully, that is). Throw in the beautiful Christmas Market glittering down before him, the little stalls still lit up and all the people still bustling about, and he was practically on cloud nine. The missed plane was a thing of the past already, not to be worried about or even _thought_ about.

“You seem… surprisingly okay with that,” Ladybug said. “I thought you were going to-”

“Milan, yes,” he said, leaning back on his hands. Swinging his legs about, he kept his eyes trained on the city sprawling out before them, watching but not watching as the cars went by and the people walked around. “But my f- _dad_ was just going to be working the whole time.”

“Doesn’t sound fun.”

“Nope, not fun at all.” He could already imagine the stiff suits and his bodyguard trailing behind him and the meetings and all the other stuff that came with business conferences. “Now, I’ve got the whole house to myself and nothing to do. No plans, no being stuck inside, no _nothing_.”

She frowned. “So you’re all alone?”

“Yup. Four whole days,” he said with a grin.

Just four days, and he could do whatever he wanted. His imagination (and Plagg’s) had been going _wild_ for the past hour, going on and on about running around the house and going places and doing normal stuff. He wanted to wake up, go downstairs, and make himself a grilled cheese for breakfast just because he could. He wanted to put on whatever, maybe some sweats and a t-shirt, then walk down the street towards Nino’s without having to ask first. He wanted to slide down the banister like a little kid all over again, slide around on the floor in his socks for no good reason, run too fast, poke his nose wherever he wanted—four days, and he could do it all.

But, despite his grin, Ladybug’s face was still creased in thought. She still sat there with that thoughtful look on her face, invisible thoughts whirring along behind her eyes, her face unreadable. “Are you…” she started, trailing off. “Are you really okay with spending the holidays alone?”

He shrugged. “Better than watching my dad work.”

“Chat… you shouldn’t spend the holidays alone. Nobody should.” She paused, looking up to meet his eyes. “Are you sure you shouldn’t have gone?”

“Alone is better than some business conference in Milan.”

She smiled the slightest bit. “It’s that boring?”

“I wouldn’t say _boring_.” Things were hardly ever boring with Plagg in his pocket and Chat Noir at his fingertips—all he had to do was get himself a bit of peace and quiet, then he could have all the fun he wanted. No, the boredom was the least of his concerns.

Not when his father had apologized before they left to the airport.

 _Actually_ apologized.

The words themselves were nothing special, just an apology about the trip, but the apology itself was enough. Normally, Adrien was told to do stuff and he did it, he wasn’t eased into it with ‘sorry’ or ‘apologies’; no, he just did stuff and that was that, no questions about it and certainly no apologizing. But having his father apologize for making him do something, let alone for something so seemingly insignificant as a trip to Milan, was bad. He felt the need to apologize for something he didn’t normally apologize for. Call him crazy, but that felt like a bad omen.

And, as it turned out, the apology was nothing more than his father saying, ‘I’m going to be busier than ever, so we probably won’t see each other at all. Sorry.’ The apology was a warning, telling him he’d hardly see a lick of his father the entire trip. He’d been dragged to a conferences enough times to realize that, when his father said they’d hardly see each other, and when he felt bad enough to _apologize_ for that, then being home alone was better than being there.

He let out a sharp laugh. “I wish it was boring.”

He could do boring. Boredom was easy. But going and seeing nothing but the back of his father’s head for four days straight... that was just painful. Thinking about it was enough to put a damper on his fantastic mood.

“You mean…” Ladybug said, still staring out at the skyline of Paris with her face all creased in thought. Something was going on behind those blue eyes of hers, some cogs spinning around and around in silence. “You mean… if you went, you’d have been alone anyways, wouldn’t you?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he just tore his eyes away from the sky and looked over to her, not sure what to say. But apparently that was all the answer she needed.

“Oh, Chat.” She looked up at him, met his eyes all over again. “That’s… that’s not right. That’s not right at all.”

He ignored the way his heart caught in his throat at the sound of those words she’d said, swallowing it back down. When he spoke, his voice was unsure, hesitant. “My father’s trying his best.” The words were hollow, fake, lies that he didn’t even believe.

By the look on her face, she didn’t either.

“Trying his best or not, it’s not right. If he was taking you on that trip, the least he could do was spend some time with you.”

“Ladybug seriously, it’s okay,” Adrien felt himself say. “I would’ve managed.”

“Kitty, you shouldn’t have to.”

He didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure he could if he tried, if his voice would even work.

“Your dad should… should put you above _business_.” She took one of his hands in hers, squeezing it in reassurance. “The holidays are about family—in Milan or not. He should _get_ that.”

Again, he didn’t answer. He didn’t even try to defend himself or his father. Silence just settled between them. Only the clamor of the market and the ice rink below interrupted their quiet, and even then, they were just distant, white noise that made the wind seem less stifling. They filled the space, but they didn’t take it up. The silence was still there, the wind still howling in their ears as neither of them talked.

She was right.

He remembered his mom, how she’d asked his father to move a conference to get it away from the first week of summer break, just so the three of them could go to the Caribbean. He remembered her smacking his father upside the head with the same message Ladybug was saying, over and over and over until he finally relented and moved the conference.

That’d been one of the best summer breaks he could remember, his mom and his father right by his side. And it’d only happened because his father had moved the conference back.

Family could come first, if only his father gave it a chance.

“Chaton, you shouldn’t feel alone.” Ladybug’s eyes glittered like the festival far below. “Your father should be there. Especially on the holidays.”

“Ladybug, it’s fine,” he said. But his heart wasn’t in it, there was nothing behind the words, only her words running through his brain over and over. He hated how his voice wavered, how he clenched his teeth together. He hated how hard those words hit home, how Ladybug’s simple little statement had snowballed into something that cut so much deeper. He wasn’t even convincing himself this time.

And neither did he convince her, apparently.

“No, it’s not,” she said softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “But that’s alright. We can fix this.”

A slight smile came to his face, no words on his tongue or thoughts buzzing around his brain; only the promise of spending the holidays with people, around his friends and the people he considered family, like he was supposed to do. He was supposed to warm up by the fire with them by his side, maybe a cup of hot cocoa in his hands. He was supposed to have them all by his side—Plagg, Ladybug, Nino, everybody he cared for beyond compare.

A business conference in Milan was not how you spent the holiday season.

Family was.

He and Ladybug sat like that in silence for a little while, her hand leaving his to tuck between her legs to warm her cold fingers up with mutters about it all that he understood clear as day. There was nothing really to be said, just the two of them basking in each other’s company like any old pair of friends. They weren’t the most typical picture of friends—there was too much spandex, too many secrets, and too much danger for that—but that wasn’t what mattered. It was just them, sitting there atop the Eiffel tower.

It was a while before he spoke. And even then, it was only at the sound of his stomach’s impatient growl, meaning it was time to go home and cook up some dinner for himself. He didn’t mind that he didn’t know how to cook much; he was a man of simple tastes, and he would try his hardest to make it work as best as he could anyways.

But he had to go home to get to food, which meant it was time for the two of them to be parting ways.

“I should get going,” he said, standing up slowly. “Dinner to cook.” He stretched out his back with a relieved sigh, and a smile came to his face.

“Wait.”

Her voice was as soft as the winter breeze, just over a grumble but not quite a whisper, enough to catch his attention nonetheless. She didn’t really need much more, not when the only other sounds were the soft howl of the wind and the dull murmur of the market far below.

He looked down at her, that smile still curled into the corners of his lips. “Yes, m’lady?”

“Do you have anybody to stay with? Until your dad comes back, I mean,” she said.

“I’ve got the best group of friends a cat could want. There’s no need to worry.”

“Kitty, it’s practically my _job_ to worry over you.”

“And protect Paris.”

“Yeah, and that,” she admitted with a smile. “But... I mean, if your dad’s not there, then I’m more than happy to hang out.”

He couldn’t ask that of her. No way was he going to accept that. Just because his father wasn’t home didn’t mean that she had to be away from her family. “I’ll be okay, m’lady,” he said. “Trust me.”

Concern was still dusted all over her face.

He had no choice in the matter, did he?

He let out a defeated sigh. “If you’re really worried,” he said, “Then maybe we can meet up at that party tomorrow?”

“If you won’t be too busy…” She leaned back, swinging her legs a little bit for good measure, her entire body just uncoiling from that tense position she’d been in only a minute before.

“It’s a date.”

She laughed. “Sure.”

He stepped up to the edge of the tower, his hand steadying himself on a beam, leaning out over the city as he’d done countless times. But he didn’t leave yet. No, he lingered there for a moment in silence, the wind whistling right on by his head and the cold seeping into his fingertips.

He looked back at her. “Ladybug?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks.”

She just smiled back.


	2. Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the title's misleading. I wish so so so so much I’d gone for the Home Alone-style hijinks, but it just didn’t fit. I maybe… couldn’t think of another title? So I went with this? Anyways... Enjoy! :)

It was 8 o’clock, and Adrien was late.

She, Alya, and Nino stood in the bakery, sweating in their winter coats as they waited.

“You’re sure he’s not still in Milan?” Alya complained. “It’s been twenty minutes.”

“Positive. Just give him a second,” Nino said.

Marinette sighed and leaned against the display case, her jacket unzipped and her boots discarded on the floor. She could just slip them on the moment Adrien came through that door, they could hand him his glowstick, and they could be on their way out into the cold. Easy. No chance for disaster. They’d make their way over to Le Grand Paris without a problem, then meet up with the rest of their class. All they had to do was wait till Adrien got there.

“It’s not like him to be late,” Alya groaned. “Are you _sure_ -”

“He’s not in Milan.”

Normally, Marinette would be about as invested in the conversation as she always was—that was just how she worked when the topic of Adrien was at hand. But instead, her mind was wandering. She stared out the bakery’s windows into the dark, not quite thinking but not quite _not_ thinking.

Wandering.

Was it too personal to ask Chat if his dad worked for Gabriel?

Probably.

“You know what? Nino, I say we send Marinette out after him,” Alya said, a wicked smile on her face. “She grabs Adrien, and we can figure out where to meet up from there. Easy.”

Marinette blinked. That smile on Alya’s face wasn’t good. “Isn’t splitting up the thing you _don’t_ want to do?” she asked, looking over.

Alya’s smile only got bigger. “In a horror movie, yes. In this circumstance, no,” she said. “I say there’s no harm.”

Nino frowned at his phone for a minute. He glanced up, saw Alya practically bouncing with impatience, looked over at Marinette standing there, then he finally sighed. “Or we could all go.”

“We gotta go meet up with the rest of the class before they ditch us,” Alya said. “If we send Marinette to pick up Adrien, we can go on ahead before they leave and then text our location. Easy as pie.”

“We have a group chat,” Nino said. “We can just-”

“Nino, just go with it. This is the best course of action. Marinette goes and gets Adrien, we go and get the party going before they show up. It’s _simple_.”

Apparently so because, next thing she knew, Nino was agreeing.

A text was sent to Adrien, earning a response that _no,_ he hadn’t left his house yet and _yes,_ he was just waking up from his nap—it was Nathalie’s job to wake him up, and Nathalie wasn’t there. Naturally, an alarm clock had been out of the question. So late, Adrien was.

Marinette tugged her boots back on all the same.

And that was how Marinette found herself stood in front of the Agreste mansion, waiting. The doorbell had been pressed long ago, the lights in the house still off, the door still shut, and there she just stood and stood, waiting.

Still nothing. Two minutes, and the door didn’t open.

Maybe she just hadn’t hit the bell hard enough. That happened sometimes, didn't it?

She pushed the doorbell again, hesitantly reaching out and pressing the button a little harder than she had the first time. Again, nothing happened. No intercom with Adrien’s voice squeaked out from the wall, no door swinging open, no nothing. The front door just sat there with the street lamp shining down on it, still shut.

Until it _wasn't_.

And there stood the most un-Adrien-looking Adrien she’d ever seen.

He was obviously still half asleep—sweatpants, a mangled mess of hair, and a skewed shirt that looked like it was just thrown on, with eyes that seemed like they didn’t want to stay open. It seemed like, if Nino hadn’t texted, he would’ve just kept on sleeping away until the party was over and he was awake at 3am for no reason.

He stood there, in the doorway, and he looked at her. In all his mismatched, ruffled glory, he stood there.

She was shocked, to say the least.

He was so relaxed. So much unlike the put-together Adrien she was used to seeing day in and day out around the school, like a stranger was standing there on the other side of the door.

“Hey Marinette.” He pulled himself out of the doorway and opened the door wider, waving her in.

She didn’t want to admit how many seconds it took her to react. Maybe one or two, she wasn’t sure; it could’ve been a minute for all she knew. Regardless, she was sure it was far too long, and he stood there all the same, waiting patiently for her to get her bearings and get inside.

“So… what’re you doing here?” he asked, closing the door behind her. The draft was cut off with an abrupt click of the lock, and then he was turning back to her.

“Nino sent me,” she said. “To get you. You’re- uh- late.”

“Late? What time is it?” he asked.

He hadn’t stopped to check the time, it seemed. Not even when Nino texted him and he responded to that text, did Adrien check the time. She would’ve been tempted to sigh if he hadn’t been standing right there in front of her.

“8:15,” she said instead.

“Oh. Wow. Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to make you guys wait.”

She smiled. “It’s alright.”

“Ah… just gimme one second. I’ll go change real fast,” he said, turning away from the door. “Don’t want to keep you waiting any longer, do I?” He winked.

_Winked._

Then, he was spinning on his heel and running back up the stairs towards his room, his footsteps echoing down the hall, his bare feet slapping against the floor as he went.

Adrien, bare-footed.

_Winking._

Adrien, so… she could only describe it as un-Adrien. There was no other way to put it.

The Adrien she knew was usually all composed, _not_ … sweatpants and sleepy eyes and messy hair. Usually, he wore the same kind of fashionable clothes, his eyes were wide open and bright, and there wasn’t a hair out of place on his head. He was put together. He always looked the same way, nothing new or different. Just the same thing.

That person who’d come to the door didn’t look quite like the Adrien she was used to.

Not even close.

This Adrien looked relaxed. At ease. Not quite so tense around the shoulders. She didn’t even realize how tensed up his shoulders were all the time, not until he came to the door with his shoulders sagging all the way. This Adrien was all easy smiles and _winking_ and all kinds of other things that she couldn’t quite put together in her head.

This Adrien was strange. But a good kind of strange. She liked that strange. Sure, the wink had her close to passing out, but she liked it nonetheless. This Adrien looked like a happier Adrien, one who could safely relax as much as he wanted.

She liked it.

Another second passed and, in silence, she stood there waiting for Adrien to show up again.

The house was quiet. Very, _very_ quiet. Stiflingly quiet. She briefly wondered which Adrien was going to come back around the corner—relaxed Adrien, class Adrien, or some kind of weird amalgamation of the two—but the thought didn’t keep her busy for too long. Nope, it was pushed out of her mind before the minute ticked by.

In its place, there was nothing but that house. The quiet, the… _off-_ ness.

Something about the house felt like it wasn’t right. That quiet sent a kind of chilling feeling sliding down her spine, sliding down her throat and into her stomach to settle in there with the rest of the bad feelings of the day, festering as the eerie silence dragged on. And how it went on and on, stretching out as the clock on the wall silently ticked the seconds away.

She didn’t know what that something was. Maybe it was the way there was no quiet chatter of customers or the eyes in the painting at the top of the stairs or the way the house was nothing but that quiet, deadly silence. Nothing made a sound, not even the dull thrum of a heater sending air wooshing through the vent. There was only the silence and the eyes staring at her across the hall.

She didn’t think she could stand it, living there. She didn’t even like standing there as long as she was, waiting for Adrien to get changed and come back down the stairs. It was too empty. It didn’t feel warm, felt like it was nothing but cold marble and echoes, not the warmth she found herself in at Alya’s house or Nino’s house or her own house. It felt like the kind of house that sucked the warmth right out of you.

It wasn’t a home.

Her heart twinged in her chest. The eyes in the painting kept staring at her, looking on and on without blinking. They were lifelike, sitting there and staring at her, but they were still flat and emotionless there on the wall. Just a painting. Yet they held all the emotion in the world. They were there, looking down at her.

Something in Gabriel’s stare felt cold. Maybe that was what it was. She didn’t know, nor did she think she’d ever figure out what felt so off about that house.

Next thing she knew, Adrien was running back down the hallway. A hat was tossed haphazardly on his head, his hair a mushed mess underneath, sleek black gloves on his hands. He wore a smile—a _warm_ smile—that had the same thing spread right across her own face. It was relaxed Adrien all over again, that tenseness still gone from his shoulders and that smile still reaching all the way to his eyes, that calmness that she found herself loving more and more still all over him.

“You ready?” he asked, running back down the stairs. His cheeks were flushed pink from his sprint down the halls and the layers of the clothes, his breath short, but still there was that smile.

All the coldness in her gut disappeared.

She nodded, not sure if she could say much else.

“Alright then, let’s go,” he said, his smile wider.

Yet, as Adrien walked down the stairs, she saw it. The direct side-by side: Adrien with the messy hair and the easy smiles, then… the Adrien in the painting. Those cold, dead eyes and the frown and the stiff pose and the _cold_ that she hated oh so much, stuck right up against the most carefree Adrien she’d ever seen.

She hated it. She decided right then and there, a frown replacing the smile on her face, that she hated that painting. She hated anything that sucked the life out of Adrien like that—nothing had the _right_ to put that frown on his face.

“Marinette, you coming?” he asked. He already had the door open, his hand braced on it, letting the cold air seep into the room as he did it, his head turned back to look at her. That smile was still there on his face, his cheeks still flushed. He had life, unlike that dead painting on the wall.

He stepped up to her side, letting the door fall shut. “You don’t like it?” he asked.

“I mean… no,” she said softly. “It’s so…”

“Blank?”

“Yeah.” She swallowed hard—their shoulders were oh-so-close to touching. She side-stepped away as subtly as she could manage and looked away from the painting, over to his face. “It doesn’t look like you.”

“What do you mean?”

Panic. “I- I mean,” she stuttered out. “You’re normally so happy and- and kind. You don’t look like that.” She looked over, accidentally meeting his eyes. Bad idea, but there she was, holding them anyways with that same old blush coming over her face.

“Thanks Marinette,” he said, smiling slightly. “That means a lot coming from you.”

Hopefully, he’d guess the blush on her cheeks was just from the heat. His cheeks were just as flushed, bundled up in his winter clothes and running around the house like he had, so maybe she’d get lucky and assume it was just hot in there.

“You’re welcome,” she said, her voice still all choked up. A slight laugh popped out her mouth of its own accord.

“It _is_ pretty bad,” he said. A shrug, and his eyes were going back to the painting on the wall. “But it’s just a silly painting.”

She wouldn’t necessarily use the word _silly_ to describe that cold painting on the wall, but she decided not to mention it. Instead, she pulled out her phone and sent a quick ‘leaving Adrien’s now’ text to Alya, leaning more towards the door as Adrien pulled his eyes away from the wall. Neither of them spoke for a moment, that silence still in the air, stifling as ever. Even with Adrien there standing beside her, it felt too still, too pristine, too much like something out of a magazine and not enough like a home where a family lived.

Then again, if she remembered his text to the group chat correctly, Adrien was home alone. There was no family living in it right now, only Adrien. Though it was a stretch to say Nathalie and Gabriel were the warmest people alive—far from it, to be honest—but other people were other people, even if they weren’t the type that liked to talk a lot. The house didn’t feel like a family lived in it because a family wasn’t living in it, not in that moment.

Or so she could only hope.

Adrien turned away from the painting, his eyes falling over her all over again, and a smile came over his face. “C’mon,” he said, turning towards the door, “Let’s get going. Don’t wanna be late, do we?”

She laughed. “We’re already late.”

“Don’t wanna be _later_ , do we?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head and smiling all over again. “No, we do-”

She stopped herself.

There was a sound. From somewhere outside the house, there was a sound. It was quiet, yet it was still loud enough in that quiet house that she could hear it loud and clear.

She’d been living in Paris long enough to know what that meant—there was generally only one possibility, and even if it wasn’t that, then a crash like that usually demanded Ladybug’s presence anyways.

“Do you think-” Adrien started.

“Probably.”

Panic flared in Adrien’s eyes. His hands locked the door, almost mechanically. “We might be here a while then,” he said. “I’m gonna go put on something… not hot.”

“Are you sure?" she asked, frowning. "It could be over before you know it.”

He nodded. “This jacket’s _really_ hot.”

“Alright. I’ll be here.” It was a blatant lie, but a necessary one. She’d be out the first window she could find and going out to fight that akuma. It hurt her to lie to Adrien, but it wasn’t like she had much of a choice in the matter.

Ladybug was needed, Adrien or not. That was just that.

Even as Adrien sprinted his way back up the stairs and out of sight, feet slapping against the cold floor all the same, she knew she had to go. She’d be back before he knew what was happening. It’d be quick, in and out.

“Adrien?”

He was already halfway up the stairs, but he turned back to look at her. “Yeah?”

“Can I use your bathroom?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof


	3. Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy folks! It's only Tuesday, and it's already been a *week*. I'm dying. 
> 
> Here ya go anyways. As always, enjoy!! :)

It turned out that it wasn’t even an akuma.

That crash she heard? The mayor failing to set off fireworks and nearly blowing up Le Grand Paris. Being the mayor didn’t give you the right kind of licencing to set off fireworks, but apparently that didn’t stop Andre Bourgeois. The man was so happy to please Chloe that he’d gotten it expedited through the city committee that same day, the fireworks delivered to the building just about an hour ago, and he’d set them without any help from anybody—it was a recipe for disaster.

And boy, was it one.

She briefly wondered if it was possible to impeach the mayor of Paris. Instead, she just swung towards the building with a sigh, trying to figure out if her yo-yo would let her breathe through smoke like it did with water. She assumed so, touching down in the middle of the flames anyways.

Though the mayor didn’t actually blow very much up, he maybe scattered some lawn chairs and sent a person or two stumbling, he did start a fire.

Which is why, when she touched down at Le Grand Paris, almost a quarter of the building was lit up in hot flames. Red and yellow and orange streaked up into the night sky, stretching higher and higher, the smoke billowing up in a massive cloud that blocked out the stars. Gone was the festive spirit and an over-the-top party, and in its place was a smoldering building that she could only hope was empty.

If the mayor was stupid enough to get someone killed, _then_ she would seriously start considering impeachment.

Luckily, after a quick search of the flaming building, she found nobody trapped inside—a true Christmas miracle, considering that the explosion had been only minutes ago. Apparently, they’d just taken the helicopter on the roof to the next building over and went right down to street level to watch the fire spread, all dressed in the most exuberant ball gowns, ash staining their skin and freckling their faces like mud.

All in all, the only real casualty was the building. She tried her lucky charm at it, only to get a tub of burn ointment that seemed to say _yeah, not this time,_ so she shrugged it off and zipped back up to check the building again.

As she swung off the roof for the second time, a cat slung around her arms and ash sticking to her face—the firemen had wanted to know 100% that they didn’t have to send anybody else up, and she was the one with the fire-proof suit. Why not?—she finally saw Chat. Just like with her, there was char in his hair, his whole body smelling like a campfire and burning leather.

Next to him, slumped on the edge of a gutter, was one messy-looking, dramatically-crying Chloe Bourgeois. One of his hands was pressed supportively on her back, her whole figure slumped forward and tear streaks through the ash dusted on her cheeks, and, if it hadn’t been for the costumes they were both wearing, she wouldn’t have hesitated to call them friends.

Maybe Chat was sympathetic to her, or maybe he was just doing his job really well, she didn’t know, but the image was hard to shake out of her head. She decided to shrug it off as Chat befriending Queen Bee, approaching the two of them.

“I told him to just hire someone,” she said. “Now look what happened. My room's _gone_. And you two can’t fix it, can you?” Her voice didn’t have that snobbish, I’m-better-than-you kind of tone to it, not like it normally did. Instead, it was low and quiet, her eyes still focused up on Le Grand Paris as her home burned away.

“I’m sorry Chloe,” he said, giving her back a pat. “This one’s out of our control.” He must’ve heard or seen her lucky charm fail earlier, seen the way she’d offered the burn cream up to the nearest person she could find. Like a reminder that that had _happened_ , her earrings let off a warning beep. The cat on her shoulder let out a quiet _miaow_ in response, squirming.

At the sounds, Chat looked up. “Hey there bugaboo,” he said, his voice soft. It was weird, hearing him and Chloe talking in such hushed, gentle tones to each other, but not entirely foreign. “Long time no see.”

She’d be lying if she said a smile didn’t come to her face. “Long time, kitty,” she said, walking closer. “Is everything okay down here? Chloe?”

Chloe looked up at the sound of her name, away from the sight of the hotel burning away. “I’m okay,” she said. “Mostly.” Marinette noticed the bandages wrapped around her left arm—she’d been hurt. Like the rest of her, her dress was singed with black ashes. The bandages and the tear streaks were the only clean part of her, matter of fact.

“Good,” she said, her shoulders relaxing. The sight of the bandages hadn’t been a good one—sure, she couldn’t have been hurt too bad if she was sitting there on the pavement next to Chat, but seeing anybody bandaged up like that wasn’t Marinette's favorite thing. Not when her lucky charm couldn’t do anything to fix it.

“Nobody else really got hurt,” Chat reported, looking up at her. “Only the people closest to the blast. Other than that, only the building…” He trailed off, giving Chloe another soft pat on the back. “Yeah.”

Marinette's earrings beeped again. She had to get moving—she couldn’t spend too much time sitting around if she wanted to keep Adrien from being suspicious of anything, nor would her transformation hold. “I’ll be right back,” she said, pulling away. “I’m gonna talk with the firemen, let them know not to send anybody else up.”

He nodded, and she went on her way. She found time to stop and feed Tikki along the line, slipping into an alleyway for a moment of privacy, then kept on making her way through the ranks, trying to keep the people calm and make sure everything was in order like it was supposed to be. She eventually found the owner of the cat she’d been holding onto forever. The owner was surprised it’d let her hold onto it for so long, saying she ‘must have a thing for cats’ with a suggestive wink that sent her walking in the other direction, sighing along the way.

When she finally made her way back to Chat, after what couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, Chloe was gone. He was still sitting there on the curb, watching the building burn away with a mystified kind of look in his eyes and that slump to his shoulders. A couple meters off, Chloe was hugging her dad tight in silence.

“You’re good with her,” Marinette remarked, eyes still trained on the Bourgeoises. There was something calming about seeing the two of them standing there in silence, neither talking for once, and just sharing a normal hug like normal families did. It brought a smile to her face.

“She can be nice sometimes, given the chance,” Chat said.

Silence settled between them, only the crackling sound of the building and the spraying sound of the fire hoses daring to interrupt. People milled about, talking in low whispers and hushed tones, quieting down as the seconds ticked on by.

“You okay?” she asked.

He smiled back at her. “It’s good. Don’t worry, bugaboo.” His eyes drifted over to Chloe for the briefest second, a slight frown coming to his face, before he looked back up at the burning building. “This cat’s got all the company he could want.”

She smiled right on back. “I should get going,” she said. “With the party cancelled… I kind of left in the middle of things.” _Kind of_ was putting it mildly, to be honest.

“Me too. See you around?”

“Knock on wood,” she said. The last thing they needed was another Santa akuma wishing them a Merry Christmas. Meeting up with Chat soon to do their duty was not something she particularly wanted to be doing that time of year—just meeting up, however, would’ve been fine.

He seemed to understand her words, smiling along. “See ya around, LB?”

“See ya, kitty.”

And with that, they went their separate ways.

————- /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\ -————

Marinette slipped back in through the open window, closing it behind her with a slight click. The room around her was just as quiet and dark as it’d been when she’d left, just as empty too—all things that she was lucky to have, considering how she’d just run off. It’d been one of her riskier exits. Sticking around for a conversation with Chat certainly hadn’t helped her timing, nor had her conversation with Chloe. It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy she’d stopped—she’d gladly do it all again in a heartbeat if it meant knowing Chat and Chloe were alright—but it hadn’t been the best idea with her time frame.

Nevertheless, it seemed like she was in the clear. Conversation or not didn’t matter, not if it all ended up the same way anyways.

A second passed, and she stood there in silence, waiting for some kind of other shoe to drop—a call of her name through the house, a flick of the light switch, the sound of sneakers padding against the marble floors, anything. But nothing came; there was only silence.

At the moment, it was a blessing to hear nothing in response. It meant she’d slipped in and out right under Adrien’s nose, without him knowing anything about her leaving to begin with. But other than that, it was just the same old stifling that’d met her ears earlier.

Letting out a soft sigh, something between relief and sympathy, she walked back out into the light of the foyer.

Adrien was still nowhere to be found. Again, the house dragged on with its cold, dreadful silence that seeped into her skin and wound its way through her head, sitting there as she waited through the minute. The clock on the wall was the only slight sound, tick-tick-tocking its way through the minute before moving onto the next, then the next, and Adrien was still nowhere to be found. She didn’t want to think he was taking _that_ long—what must’ve been more than ten minutes, at the very least—to get changed, but that was just what she happened to think. There wasn't much else to think about the situation.

That was, until she heard voices carrying down the hallway.

“Chloe, of course.” Adrien’s voice, echoing. On the phone with Chloe, apparently.

Marinette could only imagine what they were talking about, yet she was still pretty sure they were going on about the fire—matter of fact, she was willing to bet money on it. Chloe’s bedroom had been one of the ones reduced to a pile of ashes and broken furniture, so she most likely needed a place to stay. And with Adrien all by his lonesome in that big empty house with no father around to tell him no, of course Adrien was going to invite her over. Just as she thought of it, Adrien’s echoing voice went on.

“I have tons of room to spare. You could fit the whole hotel in here if you wanted.” He laughed, then appeared around the corner with his phone pressed to his face, smiling. It was the Adrien that had answered the door, clad in sweats and his hair all mussed up again without a cap tossed haphazardly across it to keep it tame, his eyes more wide and more awake than they’d been but the rest of him still the same. He flashed the same smile at the sound of Chloe’s voice on the other side, his eyes trained on the floor. “Perfect.”

He flashed another smile, a little bit wider, to her, mouthing something along the lines of “one sec,” before turning sideways to face some random wall. Again, Chloe’s voice murmured along on the other end of the phone, low and soft. There was no yelling or shouts or angry tones, just that soft mutter that, thanks to the quiet stillness of that stupid house, Marinette could hear as clear as day. She couldn’t make out the words, but it was more than she would’ve been able to hear at any hour at home in the bakery.

“See you,” Adrien said. His voice was all lightness all over again, a soft warm melody that sent that ball of ice in her gut running for cover. She melted, she’d admit that. And then those green eyes landed on her again and he put his phone away and ran down the stairs with that smile on his face, but all she could hear was that laugh ringing around the house and echoing in her ears. The echo was long gone, but it was still there in her ears.

“There was a fire at the hotel.” he said, the smile falling from his face, his eyebrows dipping down. It must’ve been something to hear of Chloe’s place burning down—Chloe didn’t seem like the type to hold onto too many sentimental things, stuff was generally nothing special to her, but losing a home was still losing a home, Chloe or not. It didn’t seem like something Adrien could just brush off, let alone something that Chloe was just going to brush off.

Marinette wasn’t supposed to know such a fire existed though, so she feigned surprise all the same.

“A fire? Is everyone okay?” she asked. “Is Chloe okay?” Everybody was okay, she knew that, but Adrien didn’t know how or why she knew that information, so playing dumb it was.

“Everybody’s okay. Chloe’s whole floor burned down, but everyone’s okay,” he said. A soft smile came to his face.

“You invited her over?”

“If that’s okay.”

“If that’s okay?” She vaguely understood what he was saying—very, _very_ vaguely—but she didn’t _understand_ it.

“I guess I’m throwing my own party?” Adrien asked, shrugging. “Nino invited himself over, Alya’s coming with him, Chloe’s bringing Sabrina, and…”

“That leaves me.”

“If you want to stay, that is.” It sounded more like a question than anything else.

Alya would kill her if she didn’t accept. No, Marinette would mysteriously disappear, hopefully nobody would connect the dots between her and Ladybug (her brain was punning, what was the world coming to?), and she’d never be seen again as long as anybody was around to notice. Alya would get off scott-free, and Marinette would be dead in a ditch somewhere off in Auvergne-Rhône-Alpes, never to be seen again until someone discovered the earrings sitting there a century or two later.

So, fearing for her life just a little bit, Marinette nodded. “Yeah. Of course,” she said.

Adrien’s smile just got wider. “Great. Good, that’s good,” he said. “Perfect actually.”

“Perfect?”

“Nino’s indecisive. All the soundtracks are ‘too good,’ so he just sits there and the movie never starts.” He let out a laugh.

Marinette could picture Nino, slumped back on the couch with YouTube pulled up and his headphones on his ears, trying to pick between soundtracks.

“So you, Marinette, can pick the movie out.”

Again, she was at the mercy of Alya’s murderistic tendencies. But, one look at the sparkle in Adrien’s eyes and the thought of sitting curled up on the couch, eating popcorn and watching some classic—maybe Star Wars or Clueless, she wasn’t sure. There were a lot of classics she hadn’t seen yet—and she was ready to accept death all the way. Alya and her pickiness in movies was not going to get between her picking out the perfect old movie for the night.

And so, nodding along all over again, Marinette was compliant as Adrien grabbed her hand (her _hand_ ) and dragged her off down the hallway towards his room, where racks upon racks of DVDs and a whole library of Netflix sat at their fingertips.

It was going to be a great night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda short, but I had fun writing it anyways. Note that I edited this on my phone at a track meet (the things I do for you people haha), so if there's any typos just lemme know down below. 
> 
> Honestly, any and all reviews are appreciated. But yeah, typos = frown-os
> 
> Au revoir, à bientôt my wonderful readers! :)


	4. Close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woot woot, chapter 4!! This whole thing was *loads* of fun to write. Hope you wonderful people enjoy!!!!!! :)

Marinette chose _Forrest Gump_ as the movie of the night.

Adrien seemed happy about that.

By the time the doorbell rang and Nino stepped through the door with Alya by his side, the movie was all queued up and ready to go, the popcorn already being popped, the blankets and pillows all strewn about around the couch in his room—everything was right in its place.

Until Alya took it upon herself to change the movie. Out went _Forrest Gump_ —with a cry about the soundtrack from Nino—and in went _The Dark Knight_ , a movie Adrien was perfectly fine with having to buy off Amazon for 4 bucks, but only did because Alya had the remote in her hand and a sly smile on her face. She wanted to watch _The Dark Knight_ , so they were going to watch _The Dark Knight_. Marinette frowned as _Forrest Gump_ was tossed to the side but said nothing.

Next to arrive were Sabrina and Chloe. Chloe had ditched the ball gown for a pair of Ladybug pajama pants and sweater to match, Sabrina matching every single article of clothing (except the overpriced boots on Chloe’s feet, but that was irrelevant). Chloe was free from make up for once in her life, her sunglasses gone and her hair down around her shoulders—she looked unlike any Chloe Marinette had ever seen before, in the same exact way the Adrien that met her at the door had been. The two of them looked cozy, relaxed. Despite the fact that Chloe had been crying on a curb only half an hour before, she looked as calm as she’d ever been.

Maybe Adrien’s empty house was just what they all needed. Marinette let a slight smile come to her face at the thought of Adrien living alone all the time. How dirty would the whole place get? How many times could he nuke a burrito before he went out and learned how to cook? Would he keep dressing himself like _that?_

She couldn’t help her smile at the thought of Adrien showing up to school in sweats everyday, not knowing how to dress himself. But she pushed that thought out of her mind as soon as Chloe started trying to order her off one of the chairs. Eventually, she obliged, out of sympathy and nothing else, making sure Chloe caught the look on her face as she went and slowly sliding down to a bean bag on the floor.

She tried not to think too much about it when Adrien settled in next to her.

He crossed his legs and leaned back against the couch, shifting his bean bag chair into the right position. “Everybody ready?” he asked, looking up. Everybody seemed to understand him perfectly well, despite the licorice sticking out of his in his mouth—courtesy of Chloe, who’d brought it as a thank you gift. Marinette had questioned it at first, but as soon as she’d thought the question, Alya was asking it and Chloe was answering it.

“It’s Adrien’s favorite, duh,” she said, her voice back in that sneer she always had.

Marinette couldn’t help but let out a little sigh.

Of course he liked licorice.

The worst kind of candy was Adrien’s favorite kind of candy and, going by the way he’d looked at the bag in Chloe’s hand, there was nothing she was going to be able to do about it. She just sighed and leaned back in her chair all the same.

It was only ten minutes later, after Chloe and Sabrina had gone to the kitchen to fetch a bottle of Kombucha tea, that everyone was settled in and the movie was started.

It wasn’t long after the movie started that people started dozing off.

Alya went first, slumped over on Nino’s shoulder like some kind of boneless rag doll with nothing else to hold her up, Nino going along with it with nothing more than a hopeless sigh and a shift into a better position. Then, Chloe was slumped over on the arm of the couch, face down. Sabrina was the next tick off the list. She ended up draped on top of Alya somehow, adding more weight to Nino’s shoulder. With that, Nino was forced to lay across his own arm of the couch, lest he risk waking up one of the girls fast asleep on top of him, and it wasn’t long before Adrien was getting up to take his glasses off him.

“So he won’t crush them,” Adrien said by way of explanation. Then, he went ahead and plucked off Alya’s, following that up with Sabrina’s. All three pairs were put right on the nearest table-like surface he could find with the same feather-light hands, the plastic on the table not making a sound as he set the glasses down.

“You’re strangely good at that,” Marinette commented, her voice a whisper. On screen, Heath Ledger blew up a hospital, but she wasn’t paying attention—she’d seen it before, she wasn’t going to be missing anything.

“I’ve had experience.” He shrugged, sitting back down in his beanbag chair.

His father, then. She could see that happening: young Adrien plucking the glasses off his sleeping father’s face to keep him from breaking another thousand dollar pair in his sleep, putting them on the desk next to his head, and leaving with a smile on his face. Or maybe Mme Agreste would be silently cheering him on from the doorway, and he’d run back to her, beaming all over again, with the glasses in his hand.

It was a made up memory, but she found herself filled with nostalgia all the same. It might’ve been the fact that Adrien was sitting there beside her, all relaxed like she’d never seen him, watching with rapt interest as Heath Ledger and Christian Bale went on with their little game. Or maybe it was just the experience of being in that dreadful house for too long, with its echoing halls and the stifling silence, the cold portrait in the foyer and the colder marble under her bare feet. She didn’t know what it was. But it made her feel sad for memories that she’d never had, memories Adrien might not have even had himself.

She let out a sigh and leaned further back in the bean bag chair.

“Something up?”

Adrien was looking away from the movie. Even as the Joker went on and on, he looked over at her with the blue light bouncing across his face and that _perfect_ tousle to his hair, blinking. His voice had been nothing more than a soft whisper, almost blocked out by the sound of Sabrina’s snoring overhead.

“It’s nothing,” she said softly, looking down at her lap and hoping for the second time that night that he couldn’t see the blush on her face. Twiddling her thumbs in her lap, she _hoped_.

“Not to _bat_ you around here, but,” he said, “I don’t-”

“Wait. Did you just…” she trailed off, looking back up at him. He was smiling wide right back at her. “You _did_.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did,” she fired back.

“You didn’t even bat an eye, did you? Just jumped right on it.”

“You can’t make the same pun twice.”

“Who says?”

“I says,” she said, crossing her arms with a smile. “Here I thought you were all high-brow, and then you’re dishing out some of the _worst_ puns I’ve ever heard. And I’ve heard a _lot_ of bad puns.”

“Are they as Agreste-ive as mine?”

“Stop it,” she groaned. “You sound like my dad. Or Chat Noir,” she pondered that for a minute. They were both pretty bad, but at least her dad had a right to be making terrible puns like that—he was a dad, he got to make bad jokes. Chat Noir, as far as she knew, was not a dad and had no excuse to be making the terrible puns he did.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Adrien said all the same. “Chat Noir’s a pretty cool cat.”

She crossed her arms, fighting the massive smile that was wanting to break out on her face. “It was a joke.”

“And I’m a terrific Joker,” he said. “It’s a compliment all the same my… Marinette.”

She finally let that smile break out onto her face, laughing as quietly as she could in an effort to keep the four bodies slumped on the couch asleep. Sabrina went on snoring, Alya not even twitching at the sound of them going on and on.

“Just watch the movie,” she said, leaning back into her bean bag chair all over again. “You’re gonna miss the good part.”

He shrugged. “I’ve already seen it.”

She shook her head, fighting the smile on her face all over again. “Bats.”

“That was just uncalled for.”

“You started it.”

He didn’t say anything else, just pointed at the TV screen as the so called ‘good part’ she’d pointed out earlier came across the screen.

The smile fell from her face after a while, when the movie started building up and up and up into the climax, where Batman had to choose between the girl and the politician, where he made the wrong choice but the right choice, but it didn’t end up right for him anyways because the Joker was always, always two steps ahead. Adrien seemed to have forgotten that part (or he’d lied to keep her from rewinding it) when he gasped out loud at the display of the politician guy, she didn’t even know his name, rolling around on the ground with his face half on fire.

She didn’t remember the movie after that. All she remembered was how comfy the bean bag chair was, some vague memory of opening her eyes to hear Adrien muttering in the dark—sleep talking or maybe just up for water, she wasn’t sure—and then the sun was coming up on the next day and Alya was waking her up with a flip of the bean bag chair, Nino doing the same to Adrien. Both of them laughed after she and Adrien landed like dead weight on the floor, her wanting to kill Alya while Adrien was touting it as some normal thing between him and Nino. Somewhere along the line, they started eating stale popcorn for breakfast. Adrien really didn’t know how to cook anything—she, who had a baker for a dad, and Alya, who had a five star chef for a mom, took care of that before the hour was up, walking him through a batch of pancakes and some scrambled eggs before serving them up to all six of them on Adrien’s bedroom floor. They didn’t need the dining room table, who needed the dining room table, with its two lonely chairs and its too-empty space. They were more than fine without it.

It wasn’t long before she was stepping out the front door and waving goodbye. Alya and Nino were already walking on their way home. Chloe and Sabrina had been the first two to leave, picked up by a limo and a police car, respectively, with sleep still hanging in their eyes, just after breakfast was over.

Chloe had smiled before she’d left. Words of thanks actually flowed off her tongue, not just to Adrien but to the whole lot of them, about how she really needed to get away and out of the hotel for the night and get her mind off things.

“Even you, Dupain-Cheng,” she said. The sneer was only half-hearted and weak, not the strong thing it usually was. Marinette had actually smiled back in response, chirping out some response along the lines of “you’re welcome” and watching Chloe stalk off down the hall.

Which left Marinette.

The last to leave.

“Wait, Marinette.”

She froze in the doorway. She was bundled up just as she’d arrived, her hair brushed with Alya’s borrowed brush and her shirt wrinkled from sleeping on it, the bag of leftover licorice in her hands. Adrien had gifted it in an effort to get her to ‘learn to like it,’ and she’d pretty much been given no choice but to take it. Holding the bag close to her chest, she turned and looked back at him. “Yes?” she asked.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “For staying up with me. Mostly.” The last word was added with a laugh, earning him a smile on her own face and a fake offended feeling coursing its way through her veins like it was nothing but pure happiness. “It was nice to have some company.”

She smiled even wider. “It was nothing,” she said. “Thank _you_ , for having me.”

He nodded, and that goofy smile from the night before, from when he’d made his terrible puns and laughed at them all along the way, came over his face again.

“And Adrien?”

“Yes?”

“If you want… my family would love to have you over on Christmas eve?” she said, looking up at him expectantly. “I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, and you don’t need to say yes, but…”

“That’d be amazing.”

She didn’t stop smiling for a long while.

She didn’t stop smiling as she promised to text him the details or as she bid him goodbye. She didn’t even stop smiling as she stepped back through those big, cold gates or back out onto the street. Why would she, when she had so many things to be smiling about, not just because she had a crush, but because she had made that smile come across Adrien’s face not just once, but twice, and she was going to keep on smiling every time she thought of it.

She’d helped give him a family when he didn’t have one—both the night before, when everyone had come over, and when she’d invited him over for dinner. It didn’t matter that they were just friends—a family was just a group of people that cared about you, and she’d helped bring that smile to Adrien’s face just by helping the slightest bit to give him one.

Yes, she had every right to smile all the way home, back up in her bedroom, as she went on about her day and worked on her designs. Every. Right.

  
So no, she didn’t stop smiling for a long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, they feed my needy, attention-hungry brain and make me write more :DDD
> 
> (Also, this fade to black moment made me really happy, I hope it did for you too!!!!)
> 
> I bid you people, my wonderful readers, adieu :) Until next time!!

**Author's Note:**

> I plan on updating this Fridays and Tuesdays（ฅ＾・ﻌ・＾）ฅ
> 
> Until then!!!


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